


Ad Astra Per Aspera

by dogpoet



Category: Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance, tarsus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-10
Updated: 2009-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things James Kirk has never told anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Astra Per Aspera

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Ad Astra Per Aspera](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045587) by [curlybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlybear/pseuds/curlybear), [dogpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet)



> Written for Trek Novel Fest. All you need to know about the novel, _Collision Course_, is that Kirk and Spock are teenagers living in San Francisco. Kirk is a bit of a juvie and gets in trouble for stealing a Starfleet vehicle. Spock is a bit of a rebel, who gets in trouble for other reasons. Anyway, they meet when they both get arrested at a bar. Eventually, they end up in Starfleet together (it's complicated, don't ask). One of the novel threads is Kirk's experience on Tarsus IV, which only his father and brother know about. Some evil dudes who knew Kirk on Tarsus IV are plotting something terrible, and Spock and Kirk have to exonerate themselves by going up against them.

Two months into his Academy training, he finds himself in the National Cemetery almost daily. There's no snow, but it feels like snow, the mist so close, obscuring the bay and the bridge. Jim kneels in the wet grass, the water soaking into his pants, darkening the already dark fabric. It's not anyone he knows, this stone. It's a faceless marker for a veteran from a war so far in the past that the soldiers fought with guns, not phasers. A war so old you looked your enemy in the face before you killed him. But, then, Jim has fought one of those, too.

He can feel Spock standing beside him, quiet and waiting.

"Are you stalking me, Stretch?" Jim glances up at the silent Vulcan.

"Stalking? Please clarify."

"You're following me around."

Spock studies the grass, giving it the same attention other people give to midterm exams. "I was concerned. You come here quite often."

"So what if I do?"

Spock seems uncomfortable. "You are recalling your experience on Tarsus IV, if I am not mistaken."

Jim scrambles to his feet. "Who have you been talking to?"

_Bare feet in the cold. Tearing grass from the snow. The feel of it in his mouth, the only food. Dirt abrading his teeth. Taste of minerals on his tongue, and his stomach heaving._

Spock is impassive as always. It makes Jim want to punch him.

"I spoke to no one. I deduced the facts for myself."

"Deduced, my ass." Jim takes a swing at the Vulcan's jaw, but Spock is faster, and a strong hand clamps down on his wrist. His fist hovers inches away from Spock's face. He's breathing hard, and he feels sick. He struggles, trying to get away. Spock's hot hand grasping his wrist. He won't let go. Stronger than he looks. Pain shooting through bone.

_Grass. Clumps of grass. Dirt. Rocks in his mouth._

A rush of emotions passes between them. Spock loosens his grip, and Jim jerks his arm away.

"I did not know if I could trust you. I investigated your records accordingly."

"There's nothing _in_ my records!"

_And the ground is wet. The ground is cold. He's there in the arena in the melting snow._

He's there in the graveyard with the dead. The dead. The grass, green and growing. The fog rolling in. The world is full of ghosts. "Where were you?" he asked, he asks.

"Jim?"

And he comes back. "I watched them die," he says. No one came. No one heard.

"A tragedy," Spock says softly. "War, in all its forms, is illogical."

"That's all you have to say? Illogical."

"Indeed. As is your feeling of responsibility."

"You can be an unfeeling bastard, you know that?"

"That is not my intention. You will recall that Vulcans are touch telepaths. What you try to conceal, I feel despite my best efforts."

Beneath the rows of stones, rows of dead.

_The smell – limbs sprawled crooked on the ground, bodies unburied but not unmourned. The field where he watches a little girl die, taken before her time, her loss his own. The field where he dies, some part of him never to return._

Wet leaves fall on grass, fall on stones. Wind whispers in the trees.

"This location is not conducive to your mental well-being. I suggest we go somewhere else." Spock extends a hand his way, the palm facing up and open.

"You sure you want to do that, Stretch?"

"I am sure."

Jim catches Spock's eye for a few seconds. Stares at the palm. He touches the tip of his index finger to its center. "What happens when I do this?"

Beneath the shiver, he can almost hear Spock's thoughts: _I am here_. He doesn't pull away, but takes the hand offered to him.

~*~

Rain on the cypresses, a green tunnel around them as they walk in the direction of the beach. Patchy grass and ferns underfoot. A sweet, green scent in the air. Wind and wetness.

_Running through the trees, no direction, only running. Listening for the sound of footsteps. A cry in the darkness, Donny's voice calling for help. It's a sound Jim couldn't ignore even if he tried._

"So you hacked into my files, huh?"

"A noticeable gap in the chronology led me to the conclusion that events had been erased. You were off-planet by all indications. During that time, the incidents on Tarsus IV occurred. It was only logical to infer that you might have borne witness to the tragedy. The emotions I was able to read from you supported my hypothesis."

Jim can think of nothing to say. They walk on in silence until the cypresses thin out where the road crosses the campus, and other students appear, hurrying through the dimming light, on their way to the dorms or the commissary.

They let go of one another's hands as they walk through.

~*~

From the concrete platform of Battery Chamberlin, they can see the beach below, and beyond that, nothing but fog. It's as if the bridge and the water don't even exist. The walls of the battery feel comforting underfoot, immovable, even by centuries.

Side by side, they stand at the rail. Elbow to elbow.

"I had a friend on Tarsus – Matthew. He turned on me for a couple of protein bars. Nice to know you can count on people." On Tarsus, to trust someone was to get yourself killed.

"You often make accusations of humanity in general, yet those accusations do not apply to you. For instance, you once claimed that humans are greedy, self-serving, and weak, even as you acted to help others before yourself." Spock lifts an eyebrow, watching Jim's face.

Spock is a puzzle, cool and logical, but utterly dependable, even in the difficulties they have so far faced.

"Most of the time it's true," Jim says finally.

"'Most of the time' does not qualify as scientific proof."

Jim laughs. "You are a case, you know that?" From the expression on Spock's face, Jim knows he doesn't get what he means. "I don't understand you." He expected never to see Spock again once they entered the Academy. Different classes, different lives. But here he is.

"Nor I you. Perhaps you will elucidate yourself someday."

Jim puts all his weight on the cold metal railing, peering over the edge of the bluff, teetering. "There's not much to elucidate. You wanna go down to the beach?"

Spock considers. "It is almost dark."

"Yup," Jim says. "That's the fun part."

~*~

Above him, pale sky. No stars, only fog. The gulls have quieted, but water murmurs onto the beach. Jim lies on his back, cool sand under him. It's like he's floating in the ocean, tiny, bioluminescent sea creatures lighting up, disturbed by his wake. He moves his arms up and down, scissors his legs, making angels in the sand.

"I'd never felt so alone in my life," Jim says for no reason he can fathom.

Spock doesn't ask what Jim means. He only observes, a ghost in the sand, lying on his stomach propped on his elbows. Jim finds himself turning warm under the scrutiny.

"I didn't ask questions. I could've, I don't know, done something different." Against the somber sky, images appear. Images that remain vivid despite the years.

_The sky shatters above him. Explosions of gunfire like stars. He kneels in the dirt sending his prayers into space, hoping beyond hope that someone will hear. _

The images won't leave him, as if by going back there in his mind, he can fix things. As if he can change the course of what is already done.

"There were kids, you know."

_He wishes for someone to take the darkness. He wishes for someone to save him. But there is no one. He's alone._

"I failed them."

_When they finally arrive, they're too late to save him; he's nothing but rage. A whirlwind of fists and teeth and hate. He pummels everyone who nears._

A warm hand touches his face.

"Are you reading my mind?" Jim asks.

"I do not need to. Nor would I do so without your acquiescence."

A finger moves softly against his cheek sending sparks of feeling through him.

"Do not blame yourself. You did everything that could be done."

Jim lifts his arm. Reaches for Spock's finger. Touches fingertip to fingertip, then rubs finger against finger for a few seconds before Spock withdraws his hand.

"That is how Vulcans kiss," Spock remarks, a note of warning in his voice.

Jim looks at Spock in the dark. "I know," he says.

~*~

The night is clearing. The small room reflects on the dark window, their kiss layered on the night sky. The dim lamp casts the room in shadows and glow. Outside, it's cold. But inside... Spock's feverish lips on his cheek, hands under his shirt.

"I remember, in the police car," Jim says. "When they cuffed us, and your hand rubbed against mine."

Spock ceases his kisses. "To what are you referring?"

"The first time we touched."

"That is inaccurate," Spock corrects. "You attempted to hit me in the bar. I prevented you by grabbing your fist."

Jim smiles. That's right. He remembers now. As if to demonstrate, Spock encloses Jim's hand in his, tracing the side of it with his thumb.

"That is when I first sensed your emotions." Spock hesitates. "As I do now."

"And after we transported. You touched me, and I felt something."

"That was when I became convinced I was correct about your past. I could sense your grief." Spock regards him with something like sympathy.

"If you hadn't grabbed me –"

"You would have fallen."

Jim looks up. Meets Spock's gaze, endless and dark. "Tell me: What am I thinking now?"

Spock lowers his eyes. "I believe we are thinking the same thing."  
Jim's hand finds a path under Spock's shirt, passes over a heartbeat, before moving on.

"I have never done this before," Spock admits.

"Did you think about it?" Jim notes a green tinge racing up Spock's neck, all the way to his ears. "Because I thought about you."

He pushes Spock down onto the narrow dormitory bed. Their limbs arrange themselves easily, falling into place.

Breaths fast and shallow, Spock lifts his hips, asking, asking. "The night in the barracks... when you left after lights out. I could not sleep due to my thoughts of you. I could not meditate." His head moves back and forth on the pillow, a green nebula forming on his neck where Jim's mouth has been.

"Are you telling me I was distracting?"

"I almost followed you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I did not understand what I wanted."

~*~

He has often had fragmented dreams of Tarsus – of running, his heart pounding, fear cutting through him like a knife. He always wakes from those dreams in a sweat, sensing he has cried out, calling for help, begging someone to save him.

This time, the dream is of the planet itself, the reason he went there – because he wanted to see another world. He wakes, not sure where he is. But then Spock's arm wraps around him. Watchful eyes and a kiss on his cheek. On his shoulder. On his chest.

The fog has lifted. The moon shines brightly in the sky, calling him on in a way it hasn't since he was a child, back when he had no fear, when space was a thing of beauty and joy.

"You are golden," Spock murmurs mysteriously, touching Jim again.

And Jim sees nothing but stars.

~*~

The End.


End file.
